


all the broken things

by Anonymous



Series: broken things [1]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: (you'll wish he didn't), F/M, Father-Son Relationship, Fear, Gen, Gunshot Wounds, Hopefully not OOC, Human Experimentation, Hurt Peter Parker, Hurt Tony Stark, Hydra (Marvel), Infection, Kidnapping, Non-Consensual Body Modification, Not Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Panic Attacks, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Post-HYDRA Reveal, Protective Tony Stark, Threats of Violence, Tony Stark Lives, Torture, Whipping, Worried Pepper Potts, surgery without anesthesia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-05
Updated: 2020-04-12
Packaged: 2021-02-28 06:27:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 18,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22569370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: In a post-blip world, Tony could finally rest. His family was all accounted for, there were no imminent threats, and he was safe to retire and prepare to hand his legacy down to Peter. Everything was perfect.At least, that's what he thought.-AKA just when things were starting to get better, a surviving branch of HYDRA steps in to take away everything Tony worked for.
Relationships: Michelle Jones/Peter Parker, Pepper Potts/Tony Stark, Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Series: broken things [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1674652
Comments: 55
Kudos: 222
Collections: Anonymous





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> hi!! i've had this idea in my mind for too long so i decided to start writing it down. this is a WIP, so i'll be posting as i write and can't promise a consistent update schedule. i'm going to be updating the tags as i go, but i want to be upfront that there will be NO smut and NO non-con here, and this is NOT STARKER. thank you so much for clicking on this and giving it a chance! please go give my other fics some love if you enjoy this :)  
> \- m

**_Somewhere in Russia, December 2024_ **

Tony ran down the winding corridors as fast as he could on weak legs, cringing at each loud slap of his bare feet against the concrete floor, hoping he was going in the right direction. When he found his destination, the engineer stumbled inside and saw Peter, strapped to a large chair, pale and beaten and battered. 

“Pete,” he said, limping up to him and fumbling with the vibranium cuffs on his limbs. “Look at me- Pete?” The boy was staring off at the wall in front of him, eyes glassy and unfocused, mouth slightly agape. Tony used both hands to turn Peter’s head in his direction. “Peter?” The kid let out a weak, breathy moan, and Tony let go of his face, allowing his head to loll to the side. 

“Okay,” Tony muttered to himself. “Key, key, key, gotta find a key...”

He opened one of the metal drawers behind Peter and found a key ring, letting out an “ _ aha _ !” as he grabbed it. With shaking hands, Tony fumbled with each of the keys until he found which one unlocked the cuffs. Once he got them off, revealing Peter’s raw, torn up wrists and ankles, he threw the keys away and pulled Peter up so his arm was over the man’s shoulders, allowing Tony to hold him up. 

“Come on,” Tony whispered to him as they started making their way out. “Come on, a little faster, kid.” He wasn’t even sure if Peter could hear him, judging by the utterly vacant look on his face. 

They rounded a corner and Tony could see a door, but not just any door- it was one with a bright light peeking through the bottom. There were snowflakes blowing through the gap and Tony knew that this was their way out. He let out an exhilarated laugh and picked up the pace. Finally,  _ fucking finally _ , they were getting out of this hellhole. 

* * *

**_4 Months Earlier_ **

“... And she  _ still _ wore heels, Mr. Stark. She’s taller than me already without them, I’m gonna have to start wearing platform shoes.”

“Right,” Tony replied, only half listening while he fiddled with a circuit board. 

“I’m sure that happens with you and Pepper all the time, though.”

“Mhm.”

“Because you’re, like,  _ ridiculously _ short. At least I still have time to grow.”

Tony put down his tools and turned around, eyebrows raised, fighting to keep the smile off of his face. “Well this ‘ridiculously short’ man is the one who pays you to be here, so I suggest you get working on those webshooters.”

Peter snorted, but stayed silent otherwise. FRIDAY turned up the music and Tony turned back to the suit he was working on. It wasn’t going to be his own suit. No, he‘d hung up his suits for good after using the stones and nearly killing himself. Tony figured that saving the universe once was enough. 

No, this suit was for Peter. The kid seemed to think of it as a bonding experience- the two of them building a brand new suit together from scratch, one with all the bells and whistles they could think of. They called it ‘Project KRATOS’. They’d been working for almost a month now, but even so, they planned on taking their good ol’ time. Thanos was gone. There were no imminent threats hanging over their heads. Plus, Peter had the Iron Spider if he needed it. 

The suit was already equipped with every web setting they could think of. It had a parachute and web controls that could switch from manual to automatic. It had an extendable feature under his arms that enabled him to glide and it had night vision and reconnaissance mode built into the eyes, as well as glare resistant transition lenses that would adjust according to how bright Peter’s surroundings were. 

It had other practical features, too, including a built in defibrillator that would activate if the suit detected a flatline or any type of arrhythmia that would warrant its use. It had a special type of web fluid that Peter could use to pack wounds in emergencies. It even gave Peter the ability to turn parts of the fabric rigid, should he need to splint a fractured bone. 

Tony’s favorite feature of the suit wasn’t one he foresaw Peter using much, if ever. The billionaire dubbed it ‘The Bat Signal’. (“No, Mr. Stark! It’s a Spider Signal!”) It was an emergency feature that was activated by three taps on the head of the spider emblem. It automatically sent the suit’s location to every Avenger and former Avenger, and everyone else Tony deemed necessary. If a fourth and fifth tap of the spider head were administered, then the suit would self destruct. 

Tony hoped that the kid would never need to take such extreme measures, but the former Avenger had needed both of those features at one time or another. He’d rather the teen have the protocols and not need them than need them and not have them. 

“How much longer do you think this’ll take,” Peter said, childlike impatience laced in his voice. “We’re almost done, right?”

“You can’t rush perfection,” Tony replied, and let out a chuckle when he heard Peter groan. “Though you’re right, we’re almost finished. D’you wanna ask May if you can stay the night so we can finish?”

The kid beamed and nodded enthusiastically, putting down his tools and fishing around in his pockets for his phone. Tony continued to work on the wiring of the suit while Peter talked to May on the phone. His voice was loud and excited and Tony wondered how he would’ve gotten through this past year without the kid’s constant positivity. From being comatose to being too weak to walk to having to re-learn how to use his right hand, Peter was there all the while, constantly offering his support. He cooked and he cleaned and he babysat, he forced Tony to do his physical therapy even if he didn’t want to, he took care of everything Pepper couldn’t manage to. 

“She said yes!” Peter made his way over to where Tony was working and braced his elbows on the table, cradling his chin on his fists. “D’you wanna watch a movie?”

Tony raised an eyebrow. “Really? I thought you wanted to get this finished.”

“Yeah,” Peter said. “But you’ve got a huge screening room, and this is the only place where I can watch  _ The Empire Strikes Back _ again without having to rent or buy it.”

The billionaire chuckled. “Alright. But we’ve gotta get up early and get working. If I’m gonna put off work to spend time with you, I’d better have something to show for it.”

Peter let out a giggle as he led Tony towards the elevator. “Like you’d regret it anyway.”

Tony let out a satisfied sigh. Knowing that Morgan was in bed, Pepper was having a glass of wine and watching  _ Grey’s Anatomy _ , and Peter was right by his side gave the man peace of mind. Peter ended up falling asleep while watching the movie, just as it reached its climax. He was on one of the couches in the screening room, socked feet on Tony’s lap and head at the other end of the sofa. There was a soft blanket spread across them both. Tony didn’t move for a moment, instead watching Peter’s chest rise and fall, face slack with sleep. 

All of Tony’s family was accounted for. This was what he’d waited five years for. It felt like he could finally rest. 

The next morning, Tony awoke still in the screening room, bringing his hand up to massage a muscle spasm out of his neck. Peter was still sound asleep, though he’d managed to tangle his legs in the blanket so it was barely covering either of them anymore. 

Before Tony had the chance to wake him, he heard the pitter-patter of tiny feet running into the room. A smile formed on the man’s face as he watched Morgan zoom in with a drawn out shout of “daddy!” as she threw herself onto his lap. Peter awoke with a start when the girl landed on his feet, but quickly relaxed once more. 

“Hey, Mo,” the teen said groggily, using fists to rub the sleep from his eyes. 

“Mama said to get you guys for breakfast,” Morgan said. 

“You heard the woman,” Tony said, looking at Peter with a smile. “Breakfast time.”

Peter stood up and stretched, and Tony did the same, bones popping as he did so. The boy winced at him while Morgan just ran out of the room, shouting to her mother that they were on their way. 

“Are you gonna make it, old man?” Peter asked with a smirk. 

“Watch it,” Tony snapped jokingly.

“Oh, you love me,” Peter said.

“Don’t test your luck.”

Peter giggled and took off towards the kitchen, Tony following at a slower pace. There was a pile of chocolate chip pancakes on a large plate at the table, right next to some bacon. 

“Sleep well?”

Tony turned towards his wife as she emerged from the kitchen with a jug of orange juice. He put a hand on her waist and kissed her as she put it down. 

“More or less,” he said. Then he turned to Peter, who was already piling pancakes on a plate. “Take it to-go. We’ve got too much work to do.”

So it was back to the lab, leaving the invitation open for Morgan to come join them if she got bored (though Tony knew she liked playing with her legos more than watching him in the lab). They worked tirelessly, fusing metal and writing code until morning turned to afternoon, and finally Tony was attaching one last wire when his right hand started to shake with exhaustion. He placed his forceps on the table for a moment, cracking his knuckles and massaging his palm, then picked them back up, only for the tremors to pick up once more. 

“Hey, uh... Hey, Pete?”

“Hmm?” The boy answered from across the lab where he was finishing up on some web fluid. 

“Can you, uh, help me over here?”

Tony heard the distinct sound of the teen putting down what he was working on and taking off his safety gloves. Peter looked over his shoulder at what he was doing and grabbed the forceps from the billionaire’s hand. He wordlessly put the wire in place, then leaned back and looked back at Tony.

“Is it done?”

The man cleared his throat. “Yeah, basically. FRIDAY’s just doing the finishing touches, all we have to do is watch.”

Peter bounced on his toes a couple of times, smile beaming. They moved backward to watch FRIDAY start to stitch the suit together over the wiring they created, and Peter swung an arm around Tony’s waist in a side hug. The man could feel Peter vibrating excitedly. This was it, months of hard work all paying off. 

A ding sounded throughout the lab after about an hour, startling Tony and Peter from the books they were both reading. The kid looked at the billionaire with wide eyes before they both got to their feet. 

“It looks so cool,” Peter said, leaning over where the suit was laid out. It was the normal red and blue, but the blue was a deep navy and there was gold stitching entangling with black to make the classic spider-webbing. The logo was placed in the center of Peter’s chest and was black, outlined in gold. 

“Go ahead and put it on,” Tony prompted. 

The kid looked up at him with eyes wide as saucers. “Really? Right now?”

Tony smiled. “Yeah, and I can drive us upstate so you can practice with it in the woods a little bit. How’s that sound?”

Peter beamed and nodded fervently, grabbing the suit and hurrying to the bathroom to change. At the same time that the bathroom door clicked shut, Tony heard the whoosh of the lab door opening, and turned to see Pepper entering. 

“Is it done?”

Tony nodded as she approached. “Yep. About to take him upstate so he can swing around the trees and test it out.”

Pepper raised her eyebrows. “What, so you can spend the next month holed up in here with him again, fixing bugs?” Her voice was playful, clearly amused by her husband’s enthusiasm about the kid. “Just because we moved back into this giant tower with all of its giant labs doesn’t mean you should spend all your time inside.”

Smiling at her, Tony leaned forward and pressed a kiss on her lips. “I’m sorry I’ve been down here so much. As soon as his suit is done I’m all yours.”

The bathroom door slammed open and out ran Peter, clad in the brand new suit and bouncing on his toes. 

“It’s perfect,” the boy said, excited voice a little louder than necessary. “When are we gonna go?”

“Let me grab my keys,” Tony said, and Peter started towards the garage. “Make sure to tell May what we’re up to!”

“Alright!” Peter shouted back. 

Tony looked back at Pepper and gave her another kiss, then another. “Give that one to Mo, alright?”

“Right,” she laughed. “Have fun.”

The drive was long. It felt even longer with Peter impatiently asking how close they were to their destination every ten minutes. Soon they were driving on winding roads through nothing but trees. Eventually, when they were deep enough into the woods for Peter to have free reign, Tony pulled over to the side of the dirt road. The passenger side door was open before the car was even in park, and Peter had taken off into the trees before Tony could even get out of the car. 

“Be careful,” the man called. “We don’t need any broken bones today!”

“This is amazing!” Peter’s voice echoed as he swung from tree to tree, testing out all his different web settings. Tony watched as he did flips in the air, landing on branches and scaring birds and squirrels away. The man couldn’t help but smile at the loud, whooping laughs that erupted from Peter’s throat. “It’s perfect, Mr. Sta-“

The next few seconds happened too fast for Tony to comprehend. Mid-swing, Peter’s voice broke off and his eyes went wide, but it was too late for him to jump out of the way of the bullet coming his way. A loud crack resounded through the woods and Peter was sent falling from the top of the tree line, hurtling towards the ground as birds frantically squaked and flew off.

“Peter!” Tony shouted the kid’s name in a breathless panic as he ran towards where he fell, a streak of red and blue in the air. “Pete,” the billionaire said again as he approached where the kid lay on the ground. 

“T-Tony,” Peter gasped, propping himself up on his elbows and attempting to sit up. “Ugh,” he groaned, falling onto his back and ripping off his mask. “W-Why didn’t we m-make this b-b-bulletproof again?” 

Tony ignored the nervous smile on the kids face and pressed his hands to the wound, eliciting a sharp cry from the kid’s mouth. “It’s okay,” he said softly, looking around for whoever shot his kid. Probably some stupid hunter’s stray bullet. “It’s okay, just- let me go grab my phone from the-“

“Don’t move.”

Rooted to the spot, Tony glanced around as several heavily armed men came out from the brush around them. Peter let out a gasp and began to lift up his hands to fight, but a few of the men stepped forward and the kid halted, seeming to realize just how many guns were trained on them.

“I said  _ ‘don’t move’ _ ,” one of them reiterated, and Peter flinched. Keeping pressure on the kid’s wound, Tony tried to think of a way out. He didn’t have a suit, and there was no way to call for help without risking getting shot. 

After another moments worth of tension, Tony heard two of the guns silently shoot and felt a sting in his shoulder. He looked down and saw that both he and Peter each had a dart sticking out of them. Then, all Tony knew was blackness.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey everyone! here's chapter 2. i'm so so sorry for the wait, i just wanted to make sure that this was the best that I could make it before posting it. let me know if i made any mistakes and what you think about the story so far!  
> \- m

“Mr. Stark? Mr. Stark, please wake up... Tony!”

At the desperate shout of his name, the billionaire’s eyes flew open. His vision was blurry until he blinked the drug-induced haze out of his eyes and took in his surroundings. 

The room he was in looked like a basement of some sort, walls stained with mildew and air dank and musty. He was laying on the thinnest mattress he’d ever felt before, legs covered in an even thinner blanket. He threw the blanket off and sat up on the edge of the bed, only to find that it wasn’t a bed at all. It was a small rectangular shaped hole in the wall that had a few blankets and a sorry excuse for a pillow. Around the room were tables and drawers and- oh no, lab equipment.

“Tony?”

The man looked to his left and saw Peter sitting propped up on a bed identical to his own on the adjacent wall. The boy was leaning back against the wall, face pale, sporting a dark bruise on his forehead. Tony stood and ran to him, inspecting him further. He had on tattered grey pants and a white shirt that was full of holes. The shirt was stained with blood in his lower abdomen, an area that he had his arm wrapped around. 

“What happened,” Tony asked, because the bruise Peter had definitely wasn’t there the last time he was awake. 

“Their tranq didn’t work on me,” the boy replied. “They had to knock me out. I woke up here- maybe an hour before you. I don’t know.”

“Okay,” Tony said. “Lift up your shirt. Let me take a look.”

Wincing, Peter unwrapped his arms from his abdomen and pulled up his shirt to reveal cloth bandages haphazardly wrapped around him. Tony reached behind the kid and pulled him forward so his head was buried in the man’s shoulder, allowing him to unravel the bandages. 

“Sorry,” Tony whispered when Peter let out a soft, pained groan. “Sorry, sorry.”

“‘S okay.”

When the bandages were off, Tony helped Peter lean back again so that he could get a good enough look at the wound. It was still healing around poorly done stitches. Blood still oozed from it and the wound was discolored and raised around the edges. 

“Is it bad?” At the question, Tony looked up at Peter, who’s eyebrows were drawn together in worry. 

“They probably took the bullet out while you were out, but it looks infected,” Tony replied. He looked over his shoulder at the lab behind him. “There’s gotta be something around here I can use to help.”

He stood and moved around the lab, opening drawers and cabinets. There were all kinds of chemicals and supplies, but nothing that Tony felt confident enough using to disinfect the wound. He didn’t know the first thing about medicine and wasn’t sure what was safe to use and what wasn’t, so the engineer opted to use warm water to rinse off the wound and soap to clean the skin around it.

“Why d’you think we’re here,” Peter asked while Tony was working, shaky voice filled with pain. 

“I’m not sure,” Tony replied. “But considering the fact that we have a bunch of lab supplies, I’m guessing they want us to build them something.”

“Hmm...“ Peter trailed off for a moment. “We’re not gonna do it are we?”

“I’m sure we can figure something out.” 

Tony wasn’t going to mention the other concerns he had. Like how their captors knew Peter’s identity and could use that as leverage. Or that the fact that neither of them were restrained meant that they didn’t seem to fear Peter’s enhancements. Tony wasn’t going to mention that yet, because what good would it do? 

Once Peter was situated with clean bandages that Tony stumbled across on one of the shelves, he was about to help the kid back into bed when the door flew open, startling the both of them. 

“On your knees!” Several men shouted over each other, large guns trained on the two of them. “On the ground! Now!”

Tony quickly pulled Peter to the ground with him, wincing when he whimpered at the movement. He put his hands on his head, wincing when his bad arm throbbed in protest, and motioned for Peter to do the same. Tony stared right down the barrel of each of the guns and suddenly, albeit briefly, he was in Afghanistan all over again. Even though these men weren’t middle-eastern, the thought still sent chills down Tony’s back. 

“Iron Man,” one of the men- the only man without a gun and obviously the leader- began. “Spider-man. What luck to be able to track both of you to such a secluded area.” He paced around the two of them, eyeing them like they were pieces of meat. “I am Dominik Bykov, and I represent one of the last remaining branches of one of the strongest forces in the world.”  _ Don’t say it. Don’t say it. _ “You see, HYDRA was never dead.”  _ Fuck _ . “And now we have everything we need to become stronger than ever.”

“Yeah?” Tony spoke, knowing he’d be better off shutting up. “And what’d you like me to build for you to buy our freedom? A suit? Or a missile?”

“You’re going to build as many suits and missiles as I tell you to,” Bykov said. 

“And if I don’t?”

Bykov’s eyes turned to Peter, whose eyes were trained on the ground. The man raised his eyebrows and looked back at Tony. “Then both of you will suffer more than necessary. We don’t want that, do we?” Tony set his jaw but said nothing. Bykov smiled. “Good. I’ll need a  _ Jericho _ by this time next week.”

Tony’s eyes widened. “Hold on- a week? A week. To manually build an intricately designed missile that I hardly even remember how to make. That’s impossible.”

Bykov clicked his tongue. “Then you’d better get working. Your workload will only increase from here. As for you,” he said, looking at Peter. “I suggest you stay in line until I figure out what to do with you.”

Before Peter could respond, Bykov and his goons turned on their heels and left the room. Tony stared at the bolted door long after they were gone, only snapped out of it by Peter falling onto his bottom and leaning back against the wall, letting out a sigh. 

“That was... Intense,” he panted, and Tony would’ve been surprised that he hadn’t mouthed off to their captors if it hadn’t been for his obvious ill state. 

“Yeah,” Tony said, putting the back of his hand on the kid’s forehead. “Intense. Like that fever you have.” The man stood up and approached the steel door, pounding on it with both fists. “Hey! Hey, we need a doctor in here!” Tony looked up above the door and found a camera, looking straight into it. “I’m not doing anything until you get the kid a doctor, you hear me?”

“Tony,” Peter’s voice came from behind him, and the billionaire turned around and found the kid struggling to get back up on his bed. Tony came forward and grabbed him under the armpits to assist him. Once he was situated, the kid thanked him quietly. “What d’you think he meant when he said he was ‘figuring out what to do’ with me?”

Tony was silent for a moment. Visions of the kid being experimented on, sold to the highest bidder, beaten into submission by sadistic HYDRA lackeys wracked his brain for a moment before he answered. “I’m not sure. Just- don’t think about it for now. I wasn’t kidding when I said that I‘m not going to do anything until they get you a doctor.”

Peter hummed in thought, but didn’t protest. “Do you think Pepper is gonna track the suit when she realizes we’re missing?”

Tony winced. “The tracker wasn’t enabled yet.” Peter’s face fell. “They probably turned it off anyway. I thought we’d be good until we went back to the compound to fix any bugs we found. I didn’t think that-“

“So no one is coming,” Peter deadpanned. “What you’re saying is that no one is coming, right?”

A lump situated itself in Tony’s throat at the fear in Peter’s voice. “Right,” he choked. Taking a steadying breath, the billionaire sat down next to the cot and wrapped his fingers around Peter’s. “I’m sorry, kid.”

“It’s not your fault,” Peter said with a sniffle. “I should’ve sensed them coming. I was too excited about the suit-“

“Nuh-uh,” Tony interrupted. “It wasn’t your fault either. What, are you just gonna stay alert all the time? It was neither of our faults. Don’t try to argue because I’m right.”

Peter exhaled loudly through his nose. “Alright, Mr. Know-It-All.” His tone quickly sobered. “D’you think we’ll get out before my birthday? I just- MJ and I were going to go to Coney Island. I dunno, I was just kinda looking forward to it.”

Tony’s heart clenched. It suddenly became painfully apparent that, Spider-man or not, the kid was still just- well, a kid. He was worried about teenage things, like missing a date with his girlfriend. 

“I don’t know,” the billionaire replied. The tenth was what- seven days away? Hell, Tony didn’t even know what day it was or how much time had passed since they’d been taken. “I’ll see what I can do, but for now I’m not doing anything until they get you help.”

“ _ Tony _ ,” Peter started. “I’m fine.“ Looking up at the kid, Tony was once again reminded how not-fine he was. He was already even paler than when Tony first woke up, and his hair was slick with a feverish sweat. It was obvious that the infection was really starting to set in. “Don’t waste time you could be using to help us get out of here.”

With a sigh, the man stood up. “Alright. But the second you start to feel worse you need to tell me.”

The kid nodded and Tony started fishing around in the lab for materials. There were bookshelves lined with textbooks and various essays that Tony had written in the past. Glancing over his shoulder, he got a look at where Peter sat on his bed, head leaned back against the wall, face scrunched in discomfort. Yeah, there was no way he was building these people a  _ Jericho _ . Not when they’d given him everything he needed to escape. 

He gathered pieces of scrap metal, welding gear, and various chemicals that he knew he’d need for a suit, then started building, knowing that it would take him five days- six, tops- to build a functioning suit. The process was burned into his memory by now. He’d start with an arc reactor and finish with the suit itself. It didn’t have to be perfect, so long as it was enough to get the hell out of here. 

It felt like hours of work had passed before Tony finally had something done that resembled an arc reactor. Peter was laying in bed, quietly snoring behind him, and Tony was about to try getting some sleep soon, as well. Well, he was going to, until he heard the sound of the door being unlocked and it swung open, hitting the wall with a bang and making both Tony and Peter jump. Several armed men entered once more and Tony put his hands up, watching as Peter struggled to sit up and do the same. 

“What have we here?” Bykov approached the lab table, observing Tony’s work. “This doesn’t look like a Jericho.”

“How would you know what a Jericho looks like,” Tony spat. 

Bykov raised an eyebrow. “I’m not an idiot, Stark. I know that the Jericho was invented before the mini-arc reactor. I was really hoping you’d cooperate.”

The Russian goons moved in, grabbing Tony by both biceps. To his horror, they grabbed Peter as well. 

“Get off of me,” the boy demanded as he struggled, but the fever had him weak and his attempts to escape were thwarted with a punch to the jaw. 

“Hey!” Tony shouted. “Don’t fucking touch him. He didn’t do anything.”

“This is why you should think twice about your actions,” Bykov sang. “Take them to separate rooms.”

Tony struggled as the men led him away, refusing to move his feet, but they simply kicked his legs out from under him and began to drag him. Once he was brought to his destination, Tony turned his head to the left just in time to make eye contact with Peter as he was thrown into the room next door. Tony hit the ground unceremoniously, then immediately attempted to get up, only for more men to pick him up and restrain his arms above his head to a chain hanging from the ceiling. 

“Hey!” Tony shouted as they moved to walk out of the room. “Hey! Get back here!”

The door was loudly slammed and bolted shut, leaving Tony alone and allowing him to pull away from his panic and take in his surroundings. The room was smaller than the lab, but had the same dank smell and mildewy walls. There was nothing inside the room, save for the chain that Tony’s wrists were secured to. Testing his strength, Tony pulled on it to find that there was absolutely no way it was going to budge. 

Muffled shouts snapped Tony back to attention, looking to his left towards the room where Peter was. They didn’t sound like shouts of pain, more like indignant cursing and struggling.  _ That’s it, _ Tony thought.  _ Don’t give in.  _

The door of Tony’s room opened and in walked Bykov and a few other men. Tony feigned confidence when he saw the large whip in the Russian’s hands.

“I hope that once this is over you realize how important your compliance is,” the man said. He handed the whip to one of his subordinates. “Twenty lashes.”

Wordlessly, the man came forward and stood behind Tony’s back. The billionaire kept his eyes trained on Bykov in a hard glare, bracing for impact. 

He felt the whip make contact before he heard it. It was like being hit with a pellet gun, only with more force. His shirt only provided a little bit of protection, being torn to shreds before long. Everything about the experience was something Tony had never felt before. He’d experienced all kinds of pain and torture, but this was new. It fell somewhere between being hit with a baseball bat and the pain he felt at his first session of physical therapy. 

Gradually, the pain got worse. The whip started to make contact with already torn skin, shredding it deeper and deeper and eliciting a cry from Tony’s throat. He bit his tongue, tried to stay quiet, but by the tenth lash it was impossible. Muffled yells met Tony’s ears, shouts of “Tony! No, please don’t hurt him!” And the man wanted nothing more than to respond, to say, “it’s okay, I’m okay,” but he couldn’t. 

By the twentieth lash, Tony’s feet had given out from underneath him. He was slumped over, weight resting entirely on his cuffed wrists, until Bykov turned to leave and pressed a button next to the door on his way out. Tony fell to the ground, landing on his stomach and knocking the breath from his lungs for a moment. 

That was when Peter started shouting again. His voice sounded stronger now, as if his fever had gone down, but Tony figured that it was just the adrenaline coursing through him. The kid’s words were all, “don’t fucking touch me,” and “what did you do to Tony?” 

Until the lashes started. 

If Tony listened closely, he could hear each crack of the whip. He wished, begged whatever gods may exist, that Peter wasn’t put through as many lashes as he was. Teetering on the edge of consciousness, Tony was forced to listen as Peter’s grunts turned to whimpers turned to sobs turned to screams. The screams were exhausted, indecipherable wails, and he could barely make out a few cries of “Tony”. 

“Peter,” the man said weakly. 

He got them into this mess, and now he was laying on the floor as still as he could because every minuscule movement caused agony to shoot through his body, and Peter was being put through the same torture all because Tony screwed up. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered again. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is up earlier than anticipated! i’ve been writing a ton lately so i plan to have chapter 4 up next wednesday :) all of my works are un-beta’d so please tell me if you find any mistakes! let me know what you think!!!  
> \- m

Tony must’ve passed out at some point because the next thing he knew, he was being thrown to the ground in the lab. The impact jolted him awake and he heard another thud next to him, followed by a whimper. Propping himself up on his elbows, Tony looked over and saw Peter laying on his side, back facing him. It gave Tony a clear view of the lacerations across the kid’s body. 

“Pete,” Tony said, crawling over and wincing as each movement pulled painfully on his wounds. Gently, he rolled the kid over, making sure not to let his back touch the ground, so he was laying on his right side. “I’m sorry, kid,” the man whispered. He pulled himself upright. “Let’s get you in bed.”

“No,” Peter breathed. “No. I just… I just wanna lay here for a while.”

Tony could get on board with that. He flopped down onto his stomach next to the kid and turned his head so that they were facing each other. Peter’s eyes were red and tear tracks traced his cheeks. He was looking at Tony’s face, but he didn’t look all-there. Tony could feel the heat radiating off him and knew that his fever must’ve risen. 

“You okay?” 

As soon as the question fell from the kid’s mouth, Tony felt the guilt already situated in his stomach start creeping up in his throat. Swallowing the sob, he replied. “I’m fine. You should be worried about yourself.”

“They hit you more than they hit me,” Peter said. “I-I counted.” Of course he did, and knowing Peter, the kid was probably beating himself up over it, thinking that he should’ve taken the brunt of the punishment because he can heal faster.

“But you’re the one with the gunshot wound and the fever,” Tony remarked. 

“‘M fine,” Peter said, but the words lacked a certain indignance. 

“You’re white as a sheet and I can feel how warm you are from here,” Tony scoffed humorlessly. The kid didn’t protest and the billionaire knew that he must be feeling as bad as he looked. “Let’s get up, yeah?”

Peter moaned, but followed Tony suit in pushing himself up onto his elbows. The man suppressed a pained groan, but a small grunt ended up escaping his throat anyway. Once the two of them were on their knees, they used each other for support getting to their feet. Tony could see Peter sway on the spot and grabbed his shoulders, steering him towards his bed. Over the next hour or so, the two focused on cleaning their wounds. Tony peeled off Peter’s shirt, taking congealed blood with it and causing the gashes to bleed freely. Once the kid’s back was cleaned, it was Tony’s turn. 

“These look bad,” Peter said quietly as he dabbed a rag on his mentor’s skin. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

_ No, _ Tony thought.  _ I’m not okay, because I promised your aunt I’d take care of you and I’m failing royally. Because my wife is probably worried sick and my daughter is probably confused. Because I thought I was done with the fighting, with the pain, but I guess I was wrong. _

“I’m good, Pete,” he replied despite himself. Looking back, Tony saw the kid frown at him, as if he could see right through the man’s lies. “It already feels better.”

Standing, Tony went to a closet in the corner of the room and pulled out new shirts for them. He threw one at Peter, who already looked to be losing muscle mass from the starvation, and pulled his own shirt over his head. 

Within the next day, Peter’s fever peaked. The lights in the lab were turned off at night and turned on eight hours later, but Tony was already awake most of the night listening to the kid’s ragged breathing. By morning, he’d already expelled all the bile in his stomach into the toilet that was tucked into one corner of the lab. All Tony could do was hold his weak body upright until it passed. 

Just as quickly as the fever came, it was gone. Well, not completely, but the symptoms had subsided enough to allow for a peaceful breakfast, which consisted of a cup of porridge and a boiled egg. Bykov didn’t make another appearance, much to Tony’s relief. After eating, he made his way back to the lab and stared around at the materials. The partially assembled arc reactor was gone. Tony sighed, rubbing his tired eyes, and looked back at Peter, who was sitting up on his bed, facing him. They made eye contact and Tony knew that he couldn’t risk trying to make a suit again. Bykov was smart. He was HYDRA, he was obviously educated, and he was cunning. He wasn’t afraid to make threats, wasn’t one to bluff. Worst of all, he didn’t seem to think of Peter as the innocent kid he was. He looked at the boy with disgust, disdain even, probably because he was enhanced, which meant that he wouldn’t hesitate to inflict as much pain as he wanted.

“Tony?” The man was snapped out of his thoughts when Peter called his name. “What are you gonna do?”

The man sighed. “I’m going to build a  _ Jericho _ .”

Peter’s eyebrows shot up towards his hairline. “What? You can’t- You can’t do that! You can’t just give up!”

“This isn’t giving up, Pete,” Tony said firmly. “This is being smart. A means of survival. At least until we can figure something else out.” Pursing his lips, Peter stood up and began to approach him, dragging his feet with exhaustion. “What are you doing?”

“Helping you,” Peter replied. “You said yesterday that it’s impossible for you to finish in time, but maybe both of us together can do it.” He stood across from Tony. “What do you need me to do?”

The next several hours were spent building. The smell of smoldering metal filled the lab, and eventually the room itself became so swelteringly hot that they ended up stripping from their shirts when they weren’t too close to the furnace. They weren’t given lunch that day, but dinner was some sort of stew with over-salted meat. Peter was rapidly getting better, his healing factor having been rejuvenated just enough by the food they’d been given to allow the infection to clear up and the bullet wound to be almost completely closed up. 

The next few days were something similar. Wake up when the lights turned on, eat a mediocre breakfast, work in the lab, eat an equally mediocre dinner, and work some more until the lights turned off again. There was no time for breaks, no time to waste, because the hours were going by quickly and they needed to complete the  _ Jericho _ in two days and they were barely halfway done. 

“Tony,” Peter said that evening, but the man was focusing hard on keeping his hands steady. “Tony,” the kid tried again, but he was almost done with this part, he just needed one more minute. “ _ Tony _ .”

He threw down his forceps with a clang, slamming his hands on the table in exhausted frustration. “ _ What _ , Peter?!”

The kid stared at him with wide eyes for a moment, mouth open in shock, no sound escaping his lips. His eyebrows were scrunched together in an expression that Tony didn’t know how to read- was it hurt? Sadness? Guilt?

“Sorry,” Peter stuttered, looking to the floor. “Sorry, just- never mind.”

“No,” Tony said. “No, Pete, I…” He sighed, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands. “I’m sorry. I’m just tired. And we need to get this done.” The kid was still looking at the floor. Tony rounded the table and put his hands on Peter’s shoulders. “I’m sorry. What were you gonna say?”

When his protégé looked up, it was with wide, teary eyes that were framed by dark circles. He sniffled, then spoke. “It’s just- I did the math and- I think it’s my birthday tomorrow.” A tear fell and the boy quickly wiped it away. “I dunno, I guess I was hoping we’d be out of here by now. It’s nothing, don’t worry-“

Tony pulled the kid forward, holding him tightly against his chest. After a moment, Peter brought his arms up and held onto the man’s shirt as he began to cry softly. 

“I just want to go home,” he said. 

“I know,” Tony replied. “I do too.”

And he really did. He missed Pepper, missed Morgan, missed his warm bed and hot breakfasts. He knew that one of Peter’s worst fears was dying and leaving May alone, and Tony felt the same about Pepper. He knew that they’d have each other’s backs, but still. Knowing that their families were probably worried sick didn’t help matters at all. 

Tony sniffed, forcing back his tears, and pulled away from Peter a bit, looking at the security camera. “Let’s get back to work,” he said. And he knew that the kid understood the importance of not wasting time because he nodded, wiping his nose on his sleeve. 

The next morning came too soon for Tony’s liking. There was no gradual sunrise that he was used to seeing out his window at the lake house. Just the abrupt change from complete darkness to bright light surrounding the lab. He groaned, then sat up and looked at Peter who was rubbing his eyes with fists. 

“Sleep in a little,” Tony said, and the kid really must’ve been tired because he rolled over and went back to sleep. 

When breakfast came, Tony took the time to heat up Peter’s before bringing it to him in bed, waking him gently. The boy rolled over and stared groggily at Tony for a moment before looking at the steaming food. 

“Hey,” Peter said, a smile creeping onto his face as he sat up. 

“Hey yourself,” Tony replied, placing the tray on his protégé’s lap. “Happy birthday, kid. Don’t take too much time off, because we’ve gotta work our asses off if we want to have anything resembling a  _ Jericho _ finished by tomorrow.”

The reminder of their task wiped the smile off of Peter’s face for a second until he plastered the facade back in place, nodding and digging into his food. God. Seventeen. On Tony’s seventeenth birthday, he’d gotten into an argument with his dad. Something about his lack of maturity. Of course, young Tony only proved his father right when he went and got absolutely shit faced that night with some friends-but-not-friends-but-only-friends-because-of-your-money-friends, got arrested for drug possession, and had to wait until the next day for his dad to come bail him out with that oh-so-familiar look of disappointment on his face. 

That day’s work was particularly exhausting. Maybe it was the past seven days of wrongful imprisonment getting to him. Whatever it was, his right hand shook like no other, muscles aching and spasming with fatigue- not exactly a good thing when you’re building something that explodes. 

Luckily, he had Peter. So they did what they always did whenever the tremors got too bad- the boy did the work while Tony gave him instructions. The kid worked tirelessly, heeding his mentor’s every instruction. The sight of Peter building a bomb- an actual bomb that was going to be used to kill people- made Tony feel more helpless than hearing him being beaten in the next room over. Peter was so good. He protected people, helped people, did everything he could to put others before himself. If people like that were being forced to do things like this, then what has this all been about? What was the point of Iron Man in the first place if not to stop things like this from happening? 

Tony had never felt this inadequate. Not when his father didn’t come to see him graduate college. Not when his parents died and left him a company he didn’t know how to run. Not when he’d watched Yinsen bleed to death right in front of him. The look of disgust on Peter’s face, the unshed tears in his eyes as he continued to build-  _ that _ was Tony’s worst case scenario. 

When the lights turned off that night, they weren’t ready. What they had on the large lab table in front of them barely even looked like a missile, even after a week of work. 

“Tony,” Peter said when the lights turned off. They were in the middle of working still and the boy’s voice was filled with a fear his mentor never wanted to hear again. “Tony, what are we gonna do?”

The man spluttered for a moment. The wounds on his back from his last punishment were just scabbing over enough to not bleed every time he moved in his sleep. Peter’s were already mostly healed, but he’d lost several pounds already from the inadequate meals they’d been given so far. They were weak. They were tired. And there was no way they were going to get this done in time, even if they stayed up all night. 

“We’re gonna go to sleep,” Tony spoke into the darkness. “And hope that in the morning they reconsider.”

“But- But- I don’t-“

“Kid,” the man interrupted, reaching blindly in the dark until his hand found Peter’s arm. “You’re exhausted. We’re both exhausted. If we keep working like this, one of us is going to end up accidentally blowing this whole place to hell. I can’t let that happen. You want to get home, right?” Peter nodded. “Then trust me. Get some sleep.”

They stumbled through the dark until they made it to their respective holes in the wall. Before giving into the fatigue, Tony could’ve sworn he heard soft crying echoing through the lab. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for human experimentation, surgery without anesthesia, and panic attacks!!! stay safe :) this is up pretty early because i’ve been writing a TON lately  
> \- m

The next morning, Tony and Peter weren’t just woken up by the bright lights being switched on, but also by their cell door swinging open. Tony bolted upright and raised his hands, Peter doing the same. The boy’s hair was messy with sleep, and somehow his eyes held both exhaustion and alertness at the same time. Bykov walked around the lab, speaking in what Tony recognized as Russian with some of his goons. He couldn’t make out much of what they said, but realized that he didn’t need to when the other man came back around and stood in front of them. Tony spared a glance at Peter, who was visibly trembling.

“You’re not done,” Bykov said.

“No shit,” Tony grumbled. “I told you a week wasn’t enough time.” 

The captor pursed his lips, approaching Tony with fists clenched. Bykov raised a hand and struck Tony in the face, causing his head to snap to the side. The billionaire quickly righted himself, licking his tongue over where his tooth cut into his lip. 

“I suggest you hold your tongue,” the Russian said slowly. He backed away, before speaking again. “Ten days,” he said. “You have ten days, Stark. If you don’t meet this deadline, I’ll have to find some incentives to help you work more quickly. As for you,” he said, eyes now trained on Peter. “I think I’ve found your purpose.” He turned to the guards. “Take him.”

The kid’s face paled dramatically and he began to back away as the goons drew closer. In a split second of panic, Tony moved to stand between Peter and their captors, but he was roughly grabbed and restrained.

“No,” Peter whimpered as the hands closed in on him. He flailed, a fist striking one of the men in the face and sending him stumbling backwards. “Don’t touch me!” As his struggles became more valiant, the guards grew more aggressive. 

Tony shouted, begging the guards to stop, telling them he needed an assistant, but his words fell on deaf ears. A particularly angry punch landed on Peter’s cheek, stunning him for just enough time to be restrained in handcuffs. He was yanked upright and the guards started to pull him from the room. 

“Tony,” Peter breathed in a panic as he got closer to the door.

“Don’t fight,” the man instructed. “Just do what they say. It’s gonna be okay, kid, I-”

The door slammed shut, cutting off Tony’s words and leaving him alone. _I love you,_ Tony thought. He loved Peter, and he’d never outright said it before. He wasn’t sure why he hadn’t- maybe because of his blatant fear of showing his emotions, his fear of getting hurt. He remembered when Peter died on Titan, and how as the kid was falling to dust the man’s brain was filled with all of the things he never said. _I love you. I’m proud of you. You’re one of the best things that’s ever happened to me._ One would think that losing Peter once was the only initiative he needed to start saying these things before it was too late, but apparently it wasn’t. 

Somehow, seeing the kid being dragged away from Tony was worse than watching him die. At least when he was dead Tony knew he wasn’t in pain. Now, he had no idea what was happening. Hell, now that Tony thought about it, he wasn’t sure if Peter was ever coming back. Maybe they were going to kill him. Or sell him.

No. Tony couldn’t think about that. Besides, there was no way they were going to take away their only bargaining chip, the only thing keeping Tony in line. He didn’t give a shit about whether or not he was hurt, himself. All he wanted was to make sure Peter was okay. 

Tony fell to his knees, his chest beginning to tighten. He knew this feeling- a feeling he once mistook for a heart attack. His vision started to swim and he thought back to what Pepper had told him once. He breathed in through his nose for four seconds, held it for seven, then exhaled shakily for eight. Closing his eyes and hugging himself, Tony repeated the ritual until he had at least somewhat calmed down. He had to get to work. There was no time to freak out. If he didn’t meet the ten day deadline, who knew what was going to happen? He couldn’t let them hurt Peter any more than they already planned on hurting him. 

Walking unsteadily to the workbench, Tony started working once more. It was painstaking and slow, because the more time went on, the harder Peter’s absence was to ignore. Tony was always used to working with sounds- be it music or Peter’s incessant chattering or Morgan watching a children’s program that FRIDAY played. Even in their cell, Peter was always making some sort of noise. He was always talking or tapping his fingers or humming the Imperial March in its entirety. Working in silence was never something Tony did. The more the silence set in, the harder it became not to panic. 

Tony kept looking up from his work to ask Peter to hand him something, or just to check on what he was doing, but the boy was never there. The heavier the anxiety became, the more Tony’s hands shook. Eventually, he threw down his materials, kicking the workbench and causing some of his tools to fall on the floor with a loud _clang_. Gasping for air, Tony sat on the floor and pulled his knees towards his chest. Why wasn’t Peter back yet? It had to have been hours by now. Were they spending all that time torturing him, or was he really never coming back?

Dinner came. Tony didn’t eat it. His stomach was constantly doing flips and the bright light was starting to make his head hurt. He wanted nothing more than to get in bed and sleep, because in his dreams he was home with Pepper and Morgan and Peter and May, and they were all safe and healthy and happy. Every time he woke up it was like entering a nightmare.

As the hours continued to pass, Tony worked intermittently. He continued to wonder if Peter would be back before night, or if he’d even come back at all. Just as the man was starting to lose hope, the cell door was flung open with a bang and two guards emerged. Holding a limp form between them. 

_Peter._

The boy was thrown roughly to the ground, landing on his face and letting out a cry as he made contact. As the men were retreating, Tony threw down his equipment and skidded to his knees next to his protégé. 

“Pete,” Tony said, placing a hand on the boy’s back. Peter made a sort of keening noise and curled in on himself at the contact. His already rapid breathing became even faster, and Tony immediately retracted his hand. “Look at me, bud.”

Slowly, the kid turned his head to glance at Tony, and Peter weakly attempted to fling himself closer to his mentor, whimpering “Tony,” as he did so. Tony didn’t hesitate to grab Peter under his shoulders and hoist him up into an embrace as gently as he could. It obviously wasn’t gentle enough, because the wail that ripped its way from Peter’s throat echoed in Tony’s ears. The boy’s hands found their way towards his front, hugging his bare abdomen and drawing Tony’s eyes to a sight that made him gag. 

There was a long incision stretching from the space between Peter’s collarbones down below his belly button. It was perfectly straight, stitched cleanly, and Tony could see a betadine stain spreading across Peter’s body. 

“God,” Tony gasped, sitting Peter so that he was nestled against the man’s chest. “Fuck, Pete. I- Fuck.”

As soon as Peter got as close to Tony as he could, the boy let out the first sob. Then a second, then a third, then a scream. Peter screamed in earnest, as if he were still in the midst of being vivisected. Tony hushed him, carded his hand through the boy’s hair, did everything he could to remind him that Tony was right there, that it was over, but Peter didn’t seem to notice. 

Once the screaming finally subsided, Tony found himself rocking the two of them back and forth while Peter silently continued crying. He whispered quiet reassurances, that he was going to get them out, that it would be okay, but the truth was that the engineer never expected things to escalate so quickly. His brain refused to comprehend that any of this was real. 

“Wanna go home,” Peter whimpered into Tony’s shirt. 

“I know, buddy. I’m right here.”

“No,” the kid cried. “I wanna go _home!_ I want _May_! I-I need-“ He cut himself off with another wail, which faded into shameless whimpering. Tony could do nothing but hold him close, making sure not to squeeze too hard and exacerbate his injuries. He continued to rock them back and forth until Peter’s breathing evened out with sleep. 

Fuck. Holy _fuck_. 

Tony had never seen Peter like that before. He’d never seen the kid more distraught, more panicked, more _traumatized_ than he was then. Not even after the final battle at the compound, when he was abruptly brought back to life only to witness the complete carnage of war. Not even when he first saw the kid after the whole Vulture incident, after he’d been crushed by thousands of pounds of concrete and crashed a plane. Peter was strong. He always had been, according to May. He was never a crier. Never let himself be defeated. Never went down without a fight, even when he probably should have. Now, the kid looked defeated. And rightfully so. 

They must’ve stayed like that for hours because before Tony knew it, the light was switched off. The man gingerly set Peter on the floor, then strode through the dark to grab both of their mattresses and set them on the floor next to each other. He situated their beds into one large one. Peter must’ve woken up though, because a panicked “Tony?” rang throughout the dark lab. Tony quickly made his way back to the kid. 

“Hey, bud,” he said. “Let’s get to bed, yeah?”

Peter hummed in agreement and Tony helped him stand. The kid leaned on Tony with most of his weight and his shoulders were hunched, as if he were afraid to stand straight. When they finally made it to the bed, Peter let out a confused noise. 

“Wha?”

“Just go with it,” Tony said, and Peter did. They both lay down on their shitty mattresses and the kid shuffled as close to his mentor as he possibly could, Tony cradling him in return. 

Needless to say, Tony didn’t sleep well that night. He was too focused on every breath, every noise Peter made in his sleep. He seemed peaceful. As if terrorists hadn’t sliced open his body and played around inside him. Tony couldn’t get the idea out of his head long enough to fall asleep. 

When morning came and the lights once again turned on abruptly, Peter awoke with a start. He started struggling to sit up, and Tony unraveled his limbs from around the boy to let him. 

“Hey,” Tony said. “Hey, it’s okay. It’s okay.” Peter’s head whirled around to face him, then he winced, looking down at his bare chest, then looked back up at Tony. “Pete?”

“I was… I was hoping it was a dream,” Peter said quietly. His eyes were tired, somehow both filled with emotion and void of it at the same time. 

_What happened,_ Tony thought, but didn’t dare to say. _Please tell me you weren’t awake. Please tell me they weren’t torturing you the entire 14 hours you were gone. Please._

“Stay in bed,” Tony instructed. “I’ll bring you your breakfast when it gets here.”

Peter didn’t respond, simply rolling back over and pulling his sheet over his head. He seemed so exhausted. This almost felt worse than seeing him as distraught as he was the night before. It felt like the kid was giving up. 

The next few days were something similar. Peter didn’t help him build anymore. He lay in bed all day, staring at the ceiling or at the wall. He ate and slept exclusively, only speaking when Tony asked him a question. _“How are you feeling?” “Okay.” “D’you want some of my stew?” “No thanks.”_

On the bright side, they were left alone during that time. No Russian guards making threats, no torture or experimentation sessions. They had officially been there for ten days when Tony’s worry for Peter became too much to ignore. He put down his tools in the middle of the day and approached the lump of teenager on their makeshift bed. The man sat down next to him, but he didn’t move. 

“I know you’re awake,” Tony said, and Peter let out a sigh, rolling over to face him. The boy’s face was thinner, paler. The engineer figured that his own face looked different, too- his scraggly beard was enough for him to be sure of it. “Talk to me, kid,” he begged, running a hand through the boy’s hair. 

Peter was silent for a moment. He opened his mouth, then closed it, then opened it again, then sighed. “I just…” He sounded like he was struggling to maintain his composure. “I’m scared they’re gonna come for me again.”

Tony figured as much. Even so, he couldn’t promise Peter that they wouldn’t. Tony was weak. He’d never regained his complete strength after using the stones, and now he was even weaker after the days of imprisonment. 

“I’ll do everything I possibly can to keep you safe, okay Pete? Everything I can.”

And Tony meant it. He’d never been more sure of anything in his life. If these men wanted to get to Peter, they were going to have to go through Tony first. 

Despite that, it was obvious that the words did little to comfort the teen. Nonetheless, Peter nodded, pushing himself up onto his elbows. The movement caused his thin blanket to fall to his hips, giving Tony a clear view of the still healing wound stretching across his torso. Though Peter’s healing ability was incredible, certain wounds were known to leave scars. He had a tiny one on his cheekbone from being struck by Thanos. A larger one on his left shoulder blade from being trapped under the rubble that the Vulture had collapsed on him. Tony could only hope that this wound wouldn’t scar. 

Only Peter’s voice was able to snap Tony out of his thoughts. “Do you want help building?”

Tony wanted to say no. He wanted to keep Peter as far away from everything as possible. But he knew that if he wanted to get this done within the next week, he’d need an assistant. Plus, it wasn’t good for Peter’s brain to be idle. 

“Sure,” the man replied, reaching out a hand and helping Peter stand. 

And with that, they continued. Tony tried to create some of the lightheartedness they once had while working, but it was strained. Peter didn’t respond the same way. Any snarky critique from Tony only elicited a halfhearted smile. Peter always loved working alongside Tony. Even when they’d first been captured he’d try and make the best of it, turn it into a bonding experience. Now, however, there were no jokes, no carefree exchanges. Only business.

It was at this moment that Tony wondered if they’d ever _really_ be saved. If they’d ever be the same, ever be able to look at a lab the same way again. Once again, Tony could only hope. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please let me know what you guys think!!


	5. Chapter 5

The  _ Jericho  _ was finished on day fifteen of their imprisonment. The guards came and took it wordlessly, leaving Tony and Peter with a few hours of idle time before Bykov made an appearance. There was no praise involved. There were no words that could indicate that their captor was even remotely impressed by their feat- and quite a feat it was, to manually build such an intricate device in just over two weeks. He simply gave them the blueprints for their next project, which looked to be another type of missile, and another deadline of fifteen days. 

Regardless of the fact that they hadn’t been praised for their work, they still got an incentive to keep it up. They were each allowed a shower- albeit a cold one- on day sixteen. Whether or not it was warm didn’t matter to Tony. Watching the grime of the past couple of weeks wash down the drain was satisfying. Being clean made him feel human again, and he could tell it had the same effect on Peter when the kid came back with the ghost of a smile on his face, curls wet and tousled. 

On day eighteen, Tony hurt himself in the lab. It was a complete accident when he burned the palm of his left hand on a smoldering piece of metal. Clumsy. A mistake he never would’ve made if he hadn’t been working under duress. The burn reached deep. It had to have been second degree, if not third. Peter was quick to help him treat and bandage the wound as best as he could. 

After that, building was hard. His right arm still had a constant ache, and now his left hand was unusable for the time being. Their progress was slowing down. 

On day twenty-one, their captors seemed to notice this. 

They came with their guns and their armor and their loud, threatening voices. This time, they didn’t even move the two of them to a different room. They beat them right there in the lab, starting with Peter, forcing the other one to watch. Tony lost two molars. Peter’s nose was broken. 

On day twenty-five, Bykov came to speak to them. 

“Your  _ Jericho  _ worked well,” he’d said. “Forty-two casualties and counting. Well done,  _ soldaty.” _

They were given an extra cup of rice with dinner that day. 

Neither of them ate it. 

On day thirty, their second weapon was finished. It was taken shortly after. Once again, they were allowed to shower. Tony had been scratching tally marks into their workbench to keep track of the days, but even so it was difficult to accept that it had been almost a month since they’d been taken. Not because it didn’t feel like a long time- if anything, it felt like it had been longer- but because Tony couldn’t believe that this was what their lives had become. That he’d missed a whole month of Morgan’s childhood already. That Peter was supposed to be about a week into his senior year of high school, but instead he was in some HYDRA base far away from the city he loved. 

“I’m tired,” Peter’s voice rang out in the darkness that night. 

Tony knew what he meant. It was a tiredness that was more than just physical fatigue after a long day’s work. It was the bone-deep exhaustion that resulted from weeks of abuse, weeks of being kept in fear. 

“I know,” he replied. “I am too.”

On day thirty-three, they came for Peter again. 

The boy’s surgical wound seemed to be as faded as it was going to get, now a thin white line stretching down his chest and abdomen. The lack of further experimentation lulled them both into a false sense of security. So when, on that day, Bykov’s goons entered the room and started dragging the boy away, Tony was blindsided. Though, as unprepared as he was, he still fought. They both did. Tony yelled and bit and cursed, and Peter kicked and screamed and punched. One guard was knocked unconscious. Tony’s nose cracked under a blow. Peter chomped his jaw on one of the men’s fingers. 

Their struggle came to an end when three more guards entered the room, two holding guns and one holding a rather menacing syringe that was plunged into Peter’s neck. The boy let out a strangled cry before falling to the ground, body limp but eyes still wide and alert. 

“No,” Tony yelled. “No, no,  _ no!  _ Take  _ me _ ! Take me instead! Get the fuck back here!” 

It was no use. Once Peter was dragged out of sight, Tony was released and fell on the floor, face dripping with blood. The room spun, and the billionaire couldn’t tell if it was because he was concussed or if he was panicking. Or both. Probably both. He stumbled upright and towards the large metal door, pounding his fists on it and screaming, “I swear to fucking god when I get out of here you’ll wish you were dead! All of you! You hear me? I’m gonna kill you all!” 

When Tony came down from the adrenaline high, the fear set in. The fear of losing Peter for good. The fear of never getting out of this hell. The fear of himself, the hysterical anger within him. How he fantasized of ripping Bykov and all of his guards to shreds, limb by limb, slowly, keeping them alive long after they begged for death. 

Peter was deposited back into the room before long. This time, he was unconscious when he was thrown to the floor. Tony once again scooped him up in his arms and examined him for injury. The boy was still fully clad in his sweatpants and t-shirt, but both of his wrists were wrapped in bandages and dressings. 

“Pete,” Tony said quietly. “Wake up, bud. Come on.”

The boy didn’t. As panicked as Tony was, the fact that he was unconscious was also a comfort. Hopefully he wasn’t awake during whatever procedure he’d been put through. Tony picked up the teen and moved them back to their bed, laying him down and sitting next to him. Not long after, the boy began to stir. Those big brown eyes finally opened, looking up at Tony in confusion. 

“Hey,” the man said softly, brushing Peter’s too-long bangs out of his eyes. 

“Hi,” the kid croaked. “What happened?”

“I was hoping you could tell me.”

Tony’s eyes drifted towards his protégé’s arms and the boy lifted them, wincing at the movement. Peter started clawing at the bandages, his mentor helping when he saw that the kid’s hands were shaking too much to get a grip. He gently unwrapped the bandages until neat stitching was exposed- but that wasn’t the horrific part. 

There was a mound of metal embedded in Peter’s skin. It stretched from his upper forearms down to the palms of his hands. There was a nozzle sticking out of each of his wrists and what looked to be an unscrewable door further up on each of his arms. Webshooters. They were webshooters, similar to Tony’s own design, but embedded in the kids arms. Peter let out a horrified gasp, breaths after that coming in hurried puffs. He still held his arms rigidly out in front of him, as if he were afraid to move. 

“Kid-“

“Get it out,” Peter cried. “Get it out, get it out, get it  _ out! _ ”

He started clawing at his arms, nails digging under his skin, and Tony tried to grab him. “Pete- Peter! Stop! You’re hurting yourself!” He was able to restrain the boy’s arms-  _ fuck, the kid was so weak _ \- and hug him until he dissolved into a sobbing mess. 

“I hate it,” the boy sobbed. “I hate it- it hurts- get it  _ out _ !”

Tony hushed him, rocking them back and forth and continuing to restrain Peter so he didn’t rip the metal from his arms. It wasn’t that the man didn’t agree with his protégé- this was crossing a line. It was despicable and disgusting and he hated thinking about it, but who knew the dangers of ripping out the devices? Were they entangled with arteries? Would Peter bleed to death if he tried to remove them? Surely their captors wouldn’t be happy with the kid messing with their ‘work’. 

“Take a breath, kiddo,” Tony whispered. “Breathe with me.”

It took awhile for Peter to calm down, but not as long as it had after his first non-consensual operation. After the kid stopped sobbing, Tony attempted to explain to him why he should leave the devices alone. 

“But I can feel them,” Peter said. “I can feel- they’re cold.  _ I’m  _ cold. You need to get them out, Tony,  _ please. _ ”

The kid looked at him with wide, sunken eyes. His body trembled and his voice shook when he spoke. It looked like he was drifting into madness, like he was being pushed over the edge. 

“I need you to trust me,” Tony said. “Can you do that?”

Peter stared at him for a moment. For a second, Tony didn’t see the kid he knew. The Peter he recruited and brought overseas was gone. This new Peter was tormented day in and day out. He was desperate. Tired. He’d acquired enough trauma for several lifetimes, let alone seventeen years. But after that moment, the Peter he loved was back- the one who loved chemistry and Star Wars and Legos. 

“Okay,” the boy croaked. “Okay. I trust you.”

“Thank you,” Tony said. “Now lay down and try to rest.”

“But what about the- I want to help-“

“I’m taking care of it,” the man interrupted. “Plus, you're in no condition to be working around explosives, kid. Just rest.”

As he walked back towards the lab to try and get a couple more hours of work in, he glanced over his shoulder to see Peter laying down, facing the wall. Tony knew it was a tall order, but he really hoped the kid slept. He looked like he was being run ragged (but then again, weren’t they all?). 

Day thirty-four brought some lows. Day thirty-five was even worse. Things were looking bleaker and bleaker by the day. Their work was continuing to slow because they were both getting progressively weaker. They each spoke less and less each day, eventually devolving into silence, save for minuscule chatter while they worked. 

On day fifty, they were beaten again. Not for any reason in particular- at least, nothing they were aware of. No, some guards just decided to swarm their cell and beat them until Tony didn’t know which way was up. The next time the man woke up (read: the next time he was awake and conscious enough to do something other than vomit), Peter informed him that almost two days had passed. Needless to say, it took him a while to recover from that one. 

After that, guards continued to beat on them at random times, seemingly for no reason. On day fifty-five, Tony’s nose was broken. On day sixty-two, Peter started coughing up blood. On day sixty-eight, Tony began to wonder if this was some sort of divine punishment, if he’d actually died on the battlefield all that time ago and this was his personal hell. Maybe he was being forced to redeem himself from all those years of warmongering. 

On day seventy, Bykov reappeared. 

“Once again,  _ soldaty _ , you’ve amazed me.” The man smiled, almost as if he were praising a child. “Your death count is one-hundred and twenty. I expect great things from you.”

As the man turned to leave, Tony looked his protégé in the eye. There was no semblance of the boy that he used to be. Only the hardened expression of a prisoner. The boy didn’t look upset at the amount of deaths they’d unwillingly caused. He didn’t look like he felt anything anymore. 

Then again, Tony didn’t think he felt anything either.

* * *

Pepper paced the length of her living room, anxiously waiting for a call from Barnes and Wilson. They’d been sent to Russia to help canvas the area and all Pepper could do was wait. Logically, she knew that Russia was a big country and that the odds of them finding Tony and Peter weren’t great, but still. There was no way she was sleeping until she knew for sure. 

She made sure to keep her footsteps quiet as she paced. Morgan was asleep and May Parker occupied one of the penthouse’s guest rooms. The woman had taken a leave of absence from work. The only times she left Pepper were when she went back to Queens to spend time with Peter’s girlfriend and best friend. They, much like Pepper, were worried sick. 

Tonight wasn’t like any other night. They were coming up on a year since Thanos had been defeated. Since half of the population was brought back to life. Since she almost lost her husband to his injuries from the battle. 

After the ‘Battle of Earth,’ as it had been dubbed by the world, Pepper promised herself to appreciate Tony more- much like she promised herself after every near-death experience she and Tony had. Though she knew he’d hate it, she promised herself to make up to him how many times he’s saved her. She knew that he never expected her to, that he didn’t consider it as a debt that needed to be paid, but that didn’t stop the guilt that ate away at her. Regardless, she felt horribly inadequate. 

When Pepper was giving birth to Morgan, Tony passed out in the middle of the delivery room. He’d said upon waking that his stomach hurt, and that he still felt dizzy. The doctor told them, after a brief exam, that Tony was experiencing sympathy pains. Pepper had laughed at him, at the time, but now she could understand. She felt a physical ache in addition to her worry and guilt. It was as if Tony was her drug, and she was experiencing symptoms of withdrawal. Her body ached. Her stomach hurt. Her head spun when she stood. 

Morgan was fussy that morning. She didn’t want to eat her breakfast. May offered to make her something different, but the girl’s tutor was arriving soon and Pepper just wanted her to  _ eat her damn eggs. _ After almost a half hour of negotiating, Morgan finally ate her breakfast. But once her tutor got there she flat out refused to cooperate. She wanted to do the exact opposite of anything anyone asked her. She’d been doing that a lot lately. 

“I want daddy,” she’d declare, then sit on the floor and refuse to be moved. 

That was all she seemed to say. “I want my dad.” “Where’s my dad?” Every moment of every day was filled with questions that Pepper couldn’t answer. “Will he be back soon?” “Where is he?” “Is he okay?” It was maddening. Morgan’s incessant questions and temper tantrums multiplied Pepper’s stress until it was too much for her to bear. 

It was the first time Pepper had made her daughter cry. She’d never yelled at her like that before- she wasn’t even sure what she was saying until it had already left her mouth. “Morgan H. Stark, you’d better lose the attitude before I lose my mind.” The words themselves weren’t too cruel, but the way her voice rose in both pitch and volume was enough to make her daughter’s eyes blow wide and fill with tears. 

Pepper kneeled down on the floor, something she did frequently when Morgan was upset. She found that if they were on the same level, the girl calmed quicker. 

“I’m sorry,” she said softly, wiping a tear away. “I shouldn’t have yelled at you. I’m just…” She’s just what? Scared? Hurting? Worried out of her mind? “Tired,” she settled on. “I’m really tired.”

She’d held Morgan for a long time after that. The girl seemed to forgive her, but Pepper was finding it hard to forgive herself as she continued to pace across the house. She’d fallen short so many times over the past two and a half months. As a wife. As a mother. It just felt like everything was falling apart. 

Her cellphone rang. She picked up immediately. 

“Hello?”

“Hey, Pep,” Sam said. “We’ve been at it for hours and… We’re coming home empty handed today.”

Pepper bit her lip to stop herself from crying. “Oh. Okay. That’s… Okay.”

“All we need is a lead,” Sam said. “Tony and Peter are strong. Smart. If they can find a way to send out a signal…” He trailed off. 

“You sound tired,” Pepper said. “Go home. Rest. We’ll regroup.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Sam replied. 

She hung up the phone, placing it back on the table and falling to her knees. After everything they’d been through, Pepper thought she was finally done waiting by windows for her love to come home. But it always-  _ always  _ seemed to come back to this. 

Pepper couldn’t help but wonder if Tony would ever come home. 

  
  
  
  
  



	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the escape.

Ninety-three days into their imprisonment, three things happened. 

The first was that Tony realized he was running out of room on the metal workbench to scratch tally marks into it. Maybe he’d been making the lines too big or too far apart. Regardless, he made an off handed comment that he probably should’ve kept to himself. All he said was, “huh. I’m gonna run out of room.” He didn’t mean anything by it, it was just an observation he’d made. Regardless, he should’ve known what the implications were.  _ We’re not being saved anytime soon, so I need to find a new place to track the length of our never ending hell.  _

Maybe the comment was what caused the second important thing to happen. Peter hadn’t said anything to him about it at the time- but then again, he didn’t really say much of anything anymore- but something obviously knocked a screw loose. 

On day ninety-three, Peter snapped. 

The guards had just come in for another beating. It was routine by now, just something they expected the same as they expected that flavorless porridge every morning. Tony wasn’t sure what possessed Peter to do what he did. Maybe he’d never know. The only thing that stopped the steel toed boots and closed fists that rained down on Tony that day was the animalistic yell that erupted from the seventeen year old. The hits stopped and by the time Tony’s vision cleared enough for him to see what was going on, one guard had already been knocked unconscious. Peter was fighting- fighting with an inhuman strength that Tony didn’t think he still had after the months of abuse. 

_ Peter, no,  _ Tony thought.  _ No, no, it’s useless, don’t give them an excuse to hurt you more.  _ But he didn’t speak. Maybe because he wanted to see if the kid could pull some great feat and get them out. Or maybe it was because from the look on Peter’s face, Tony knew that his words wouldn’t be able to reach him. 

The man pushed himself upright just as a second guard was sent to the floor. Three more were advancing on Peter, so Tony reached behind him to grab a tool off of the workbench and used all of his strength to bash it over one man’s head. Peter didn’t even spare him a glance as he ferociously clawed at the other guards’ faces, punching out at them with a frantic aggression Tony had never seen before. 

The room was stormed by more goons just as they knocked down the other two guards. At the sight of at least ten more people entering, Tony dropped his weapon and put his hands in the air. He looked over at Peter to see if he was doing the same, but the kid was still fighting. His hits weren’t even calculated. His limbs flailed until he was restrained by at least four different people and a syringe was emptied into his neck. 

Bykov entered just as Peter collapsed, unconscious. The large man stalked right up to Tony, who was being held in place by two guards, and sent a fist straight into his jaw. Tony’s mouth slammed shut, teeth slicing into his tongue painfully. 

“Take the boy,” Bykov instructed, face calm- too calm. “I’ll deal with Stark.”

Peter was dragged from the room by his ankles, leaving Tony and Bykov alone. The terrorist circled the workbench, analyzing the tools that lay there. 

“It seems like the Spider finally lost it,” the man said casually. “It was bound to happen at some point. Young minds- they’re fragile. I’d expected him to go mad after his first procedure, but he’s strong. Or, rather, he  _ was _ strong.”

Tony clenched his jaw. What was Bykov trying to get at? Did he really trust Tony enough not to try and hurt him that he was willing to be left alone with him? He wanted to reach his hand out and strangle the man, but there had to be some sort of catch. Tony didn’t want to risk it. He stood well across the room from him, arms crossed across his chest. 

“He’s stronger than you could ever hope to be,” Tony said, but his voice lacked the conviction he’d hoped it would hold. 

“He’s ductile,” Bykov replied, fiddling with a piece of metal. “Malleable. And I plan on moulding him into the best asset HYDRA has ever seen.” He walked towards the door. When he rested his hand on the doorknob, he finally looked up at Tony. “You’re a smart man, Stark. I know you know what’s to come. It’s just a matter of time until you break, too.”

With that, Bykov was gone, and Tony was left alone in that godforsaken cell. 

They say that bad things come in threes. It wasn’t like Tony didn’t see this coming- they were HYDRA, after all. He was just surprised they didn’t do this sooner. When Peter was deposited back into the room, he looked more aware than he’d been in a long time. 

“Tony,” he said when the men threw him to the floor and left. “I-I think- They did something to my head.”

The man felt his stomach sink. This was what he’d been afraid of the whole time. The fact that they hadn’t done it yet had lulled him into a false sense of security. He didn’t think things would get any worse- hell, dying would be better than this. There Peter was, on his hands and knees, shaking, sweating, with small burn marks on his temples, as if he’d been electrocuted. Tony kneeled down next to him and used a knuckle to tilt the kid’s chin up to look at him. 

“I need you to hear me, Pete,” Tony said quietly, afraid that someone else was listening. “You can’t let them take your memories.”

“Tony-“

“They’re trying to brainwash you,” the man whispered intently. “You can’t let them, Peter, you  _ can’t.  _ They’ll make you do horrible things. You- We can’t let them.”

Peter only looked at him with wide eyes, wordless. His mouth opened, as if he were going to say something, but he closed it again soon after. 

_ “Peter,”  _ Tony said through gritted teeth, giving the kid’s shoulders a firm shake. “Promise me. Promise me you’ll stick it out-“

“Haven’t I been?” Peter’s face was contorted in anger. “Haven’t I been sticking it out? I’m tired, Tony. I’m tired of being strong. I’m tired of waiting for someone to come save us when  _ no one will.  _ You hear me?  _ No one is coming,  _ Tony. It’s useless.”

The kid pushed Tony away from him and stood, walking towards the lab and picking up an instrument. His hands shook as he started to fiddle with parts of the missile they were building and Tony rushed over to stop him. He grabbed the boy’s wrist in an attempt to pull it away from the wiring. At the contact, Peter’s head snapped up to look at him and his eyebrows were drawn together in anger, a dangerous glint in his eye. Tony didn’t falter, keeping his hold on Peter’s arm. 

“Step away from the table, Pete,” he said, trying to keep his voice calm. 

Peter stared him down for a moment before wrenching his wrist from Tony’s grip, walking away from the table. He moved across the room to the rectangular hole in the wall where his mattress once was and sat down there, holding out his arms and staring at his implanted webshooters. 

“I know what they want with me,” the boy said softly, resentment lacing his voice and eyes trained on the floor. “They want to use me. Make me kill people.” He looked up at Tony. “That’s what they did with Captain Rogers’ friend, right? Made him kill people.”

Tony winced. “Yeah.” This was the most Peter had spoken in over a week. It was strange to hear him speaking this much, voice cracking with disuse. 

“And no one is coming,” Peter continued. Tony opened his mouth to refute, but his protégé cut him off. “Admit it. If Pepper or May or Rhodey had any idea where we are, they’d have come by now. Who’s to say they don’t think we’re dead?”

Tony was quiet for a moment, then strode across the room and kneeled down in front of Peter. He spoke in a low whisper. “We’re going to get ourselves out. Just… Give me time to think. All you need to do is not let them turn you into something you’re not.  _ Please. _ ”

Peter bit his lip, the bitterness ebbing out of his expression. “Okay,” he said. 

After that, Tony began planning. He took sharpened pieces of metal and hid them in various places- by the bed, by the toilet, on the shelves by the door. They came for Peter every few days and neither of them fought it, but each time he was brought back Tony could tell that the kid was losing himself a little more. 

On day one-hundred and twenty-one, the guards got sloppy. They were in the midst of a routine beating, just after dinner, and the cell door opened again. Tony’s ears stopped ringing in time to hear two voices. 

“Shift change,” one said. 

“Already? We were just getting started.”

The first laughed. “Same time every day, man. Now go on. It’s our turn.”

Tony held in a smile as the beating resumed. Finally he was making some headway. 

It was hard to formulate the plan. The schedule of beatings was too inconsistent to rely on, but it was all Tony could do. His mind was in such a fog all the time that it was hard to think of anything viable. 

Regardless, everything fell into place one-hundred and thirty-one days into their imprisonment. 

Peter had been taken for another brainwashing session (attempt? Tony didn’t think it was working as well as HYDRA had hoped). While the boy was away, one guard came in to beat Tony around- just in time for a shift change. As soon as the new guard came in to relieve the old one, Tony moved. 

He’d been on the floor, a kick sailing towards his ribs when he decisively grabbed the foot, twisting the ankle until the guard fell. Tony stood so quickly that his vision blacked out, but managed to stumble towards his weapon that was stashed by the door. He was charged by one of the men, but jammed the sharp piece of metal right into the goon’s neck. Blood squirted onto Tony’s face and neck as the man went down, revealing the second guard standing there, face white with shock. Tony ran at him, tackling him to the ground.

They wrestled, Tony squeezing a hand around his neck while using his other to try and grab something, anything to use as a weapon. The man sent a punch towards Tony’s nose, but the engineer didn’t falter. He looked around for the nearest weapon- by the bed- and used his legs for leverage as he rolled them toward it, the guard still struggling in his grasp, face turning purple. He grabbed the piece of scrap metal and once again jabbed it into the man’s jugular. 

Standing, Tony observed his surroundings for a moment. He’d just killed two guards. No sirens or alarms were going off. The shift change was still going on. 

He ran. 

Tony ran down the winding corridors as fast as he could on weak legs, cringing at each loud slap of his bare feet against the concrete floor, hoping he was going in the right direction. When he found his destination, the engineer stumbled inside and saw Peter, strapped to a large chair, pale and beaten and battered. 

“Pete,” he said, limping up to him and fumbling with the vibranium cuffs on his limbs. “Look at me- Pete?” The boy was staring off at the wall in front of him, eyes glassy and unfocused, mouth slightly agape. Tony used both hands to turn Peter’s head in his direction. “Peter?” The kid let out a weak, breathy moan, and Tony let go of his face, allowing his head to loll to the side. 

“Okay,” Tony muttered to himself. “Key, key, key, gotta find a key...”

He opened one of the metal drawers behind Peter and found a key ring, letting out an “ _ aha _ !” as he grabbed it. With shaking hands, Tony fumbled with each of the keys until he found which one unlocked the cuffs. Once he got them off, revealing Peter’s raw, torn up wrists and ankles, he threw the keys away and pulled Peter up so his arm was over the man’s shoulders, allowing Tony to hold him up. 

“Come on,” Tony whispered to him as they started making their way out. “Come on, a little faster, kid.” He wasn’t even sure if Peter could hear him, judging by the utterly vacant look on his face. 

They rounded a corner and Tony could see a door, but not just any door- it was one with a bright light peeking through the bottom. There were snowflakes blowing through the gap and Tony knew that this was their way out. He let out an exhilarated laugh and picked up the pace. Finally,  _ fucking finally _ , they were getting out of this hellhole. 

When they got to the door, Tony shoved it open. A forceful gust of wind made him stumble, snowflakes pouring into the building. 

“Tony,” Peter breathed. 

He knew what the kid meant. They’d never survive out there. They’d never make it. And Tony had killed two people. He shouldn’t have done that, shouldn’t have taken the risk if he wasn’t absolutely sure they were going to make it. God, he was such a  _ fucking idiot.  _ The punishment for this was sure to be the worst yet. 

_ “Tony,”  _ Peter said again, voice more forceful. The man looked down at him and saw those big brown orbs staring at him, full of trepidation- and was that… a bit of hope? 

“What is it,” he asked. 

Peter swallowed. “KRATOS.”

Tony audibly gasped. KRATOS. The tracker signal. It wasn’t connected to FRIDAY just yet, but they could still press the center button to send a signal to everyone they could reach.

“Holy shit,” Tony whispered. “You’re a genius.”

With newfound strength, they both took off back down the hallway. They checked every room they passed until one hallway led to another, then another. 

“Tony,” Peter said, grabbing his mentor’s arm and stopping him. “There’s no time.”

He was right, Tony could hear guards milling about the building, getting back to their duties. But there was no other option- there had to be time, there just had to be. 

“We split up,” Tony said, turning Peter so they were looking each other in the eye. “Whoever finds the suit first sends out a signal and sets the timer for self-destruction.” Peter looked at him warily. “Count seven minutes,” the man continued. “Seven minutes from now, be back outside, whether you find it or not. Can you do that?”

The boy nodded fervently, terrified eyes holding determination- something Tony hadn’t seen in them in too long. The man scooped him up into a hug. When they pulled apart, Tony spoke again. 

“Seven minutes,” he said. “And blow this place to hell.”

Peter nodded, and they went their separate ways. 

It took Tony two and a half minutes to find KRATOS. It was thrown into a storage room filled with blueprints, chitauri scraps, and parts of Tony’s old suits. The state-of-the-art suit- the thing he and Peter spent weeks upon weeks working on together- laying there like a piece of trash. Tony grabbed the suit and pressed the center button. 

One, for the gunshot wound that sent Peter down all those weeks ago, hurtling from the skyline to the grassy floor. 

Two, for the two guards Tony had killed in cold blood. 

Three, for the horrendous days of torture they’d endured. 

Four, for the procedures Peter had been put through without his consent. 

Five, for the family Tony was determined to come home to. 

There was a click, then the body of the suit’s spider lit up with digital numbers. Five minutes, then the suit would blow. Five minutes and the building would blow, and someone would be on their way to save them, and he and Peter would be  _ free.  _

Tony ran once again. Just as the door came into view, an alarm sounded, resonating throughout the hallway. He picked up the pace, the countdown in his head at about one minute. 

The cold air hit him like a brick, knocking the air from his lungs for a moment as he ran across the snow until he was several feet away from the building. The structure was wide, two stories tall- though Tony was sure it stretched lower into the ground. He looked around him for any sign of his protégé, but couldn’t see anything but snow. Now that he thought about it, it was absolutely frigid. His bare feet had already gone numb from the cold. 

“Peter,” he called out. “Pete!”

Tony spun around, calling and calling the kid’s name, but to no avail. In a moment of horror, he looked back to the building.  _ No, no, no, there’s only a few seconds left- _

“Peter!”

The engineer ran back to the building, pulling the door open and running back inside. He only made it so far before he heard the explosion and the hall in front of him was engulfed by an inferno. The force of it sent Tony’s body flying backwards, fire burning his skin and hair until he was sprawled outside, tumbling in the snow. 

The clash between heat and ice was the last thing Tony registered before complete darkness. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi soo quarantining is giving me a ton of time to write so you can expect the final chapter this friday the 20th! remember to wash your hands and take care of those around you who are elderly or have preexisting conditions. stay safe out there!!!!!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you SO MUCH to everyone who has read this, commented, left kudos. it really means so much to me. i hope you enjoy the conclusion!!

When Tony was a kid, his mother tried to teach him how to play the piano. She was a busy woman, always under pressure to play the supportive wife to living legend Howard Stark, but she always tried to make time for her son in between business trips and PR stunts. Tony always seemed to take it for granted, though. He loved his mother, of course, but he just wasn’t good at showing it. 

Even though he was a genius, Tony had the attention span of a rock. It wasn’t enough to affect his grades, but it was enough to make him irritable and hotheaded. It was enough for his mother’s piano lessons to be akin to pulling teeth. It was enough for him to snap at her in a rage, only to regret it later (sometimes that regret came in the form of a belt buckle against his skin, thanks to good ole’ Howard). Tony loved his mother, but he never learned how to play. Not like she did. He could do simple chord progressions, but nothing beyond that. 

When Tony came to, the first thing he heard was a soft piano ballad. It was one he heard before… It was Chopin. Which nocturne it was, Tony wasn’t sure, but it filled his very being with warmth and peace. 

“Tones?” 

Rhodes’ voice softly met Tony’s ears and somehow, it was better than the piano. He opened his eyes and saw his friend leaning against his bed- a  _ bed,  _ an actual  _ bed-  _ with a weary smile on his face. To Rhodey’s left was Pepper, fast asleep on a recliner while the piano music played on her tablet. 

Tony cleared his throat. “Guess I should stop getting kidnapped, huh?”

Rhodey chuckled, but it sounded suspiciously like a sob. “Yeah. Yeah, you should.”

There was another second of bliss before Tony remembered.  _ Peter.  _ How the hell could he forget?

“Rhodey,” he said, waking Pepper up with the volume of his voice. “Where’s- Peter, he was- There was-“

“Hey, hey,” Pepper said, reaching out a hand and resting it on his own. “He’s okay, he’s fine. Pretty banged up, but he’s okay. Take a breath.”

Tony did, ignoring the way his ribs ached. “What happened?”

“We got your signal,” Rhodey said. “We got a team to you in less than an hour and found you, hypothermic, by the compound you destroyed.” He paused. “The kid was in the rubble, but he was okay. Woke up almost a day ago.”

Tony exhaled. Okay. That was okay. He gave Pepper’s hand a squeeze. “Morgan? Where is she?”

“Sleeping,” Pepper informed. “She wanted to stay here, but I insisted she sleep in her own bed.”

“Probably for the best,” Tony replied, hand drifting towards his scraggly beard. That was when he noticed the bandages wrapped around his arms, torso, and legs. There was an ache resounding across his body, but other than that he didn’t feel any pain- probably due to the blur of morphine. 

“You got caught in the explosion,” Rhodes said. “Second degree burns. Could’ve been worse, but this whole thing is enough to set your progress with your arm back a few months.”

Tony let out a sigh. “Right.”

“ _ But,” _ Pepper interjected. “You’re here now, and you can get back on track. That’s what’s important. That you’re here, and you’re  _ alive,” _ her voice cracked and began to tremble. “And that you’re gonna be okay.”

Tony lifted an arm, giving her room to lay with him. “Come here.”

She didn’t hesitate to nestle her face against his collarbone, and Tony felt tears begin to saturate his gown. 

As happy as Tony was to be home, panic started to set in once everything turned quiet, Rhodey having left to go to sleep, and Pepper resting quietly against him. This was… it felt  _ wrong.  _ The bed was too soft, the air too fresh, the blanket too warm. 

Carefully, he scooted out from under Pepper and adjusted so that she was laying on the bed. Somehow, he didn’t wake her- though he figured she’d been run ragged over the past few months. It’d make sense that she was exhausted. Clad in cotton pants and a hospital gown, Tony grabbed his IV pole and set off down the hallway, glancing in every room he came across. Finally, a few doors down, he spotted Peter. 

The boy was laying in bed on his side, holding his girlfriend against his chest while they both slept soundly. From what Tony could see, the kid’s injuries didn’t look too bad. He was bruised and scraped and burnt, yes, but it wasn’t as severe as the man had expected. 

“Tony?”

With a start, the billionaire turned around and found May Parker standing behind him, eyes tired and hair disheveled. 

“What are you doing up,” she asked in a whisper, concern in her voice and present on her face. 

“I just…” Tony paused. “I had to see him.”

May’s expression softened, and she slowly came towards him until her arms were wrapped around him in an embrace. Tony hesitated. It wasn’t that he didn’t love her like family, it was just that he’d never shared a hug with May Parker before. She never seemed to need it. She was always strong, always level headed. She was a force to be reckoned with. 

Eventually, though, Tony returned the gesture. They stayed like that for a long time, as if making up for each hug they’d never given each other, before May pulled back. 

“Come sit,” she said. “You can stay for fifteen minutes, then I’m taking you back to your room.”

Tony supposed that was fair. He was exhausted, dead on his feet, but he couldn’t not check in on the kid. So he sat in the chair closest to the bed, just a couple feet away from Peter. From there, Tony could clearly see the way his breath blew on Michelle’s curls, the way his eyelids fluttered, the way his arms occasionally tightened around his girlfriend. Peter was alive, that much was apparent, and he looked peaceful like this. When he slept back  _ there,  _ he never looked like he was really resting. He always looked like he was just on the edge of sleep for fear of being attacked. 

“Thank you,” May said, cutting through Tony’s thoughts. He turned to her, confusion written on his face. “For taking care of him. He hasn’t, uh… Said anything yet. Not really. But I know you were taking care of him. I knew it the whole time. So thank you.”

Tony didn’t know how to respond. It wasn’t like he’d had much of a choice. He loved Peter as much as he loved his own daughter. But Tony didn’t want to say he’d do it again. If it were absolutely necessary, yes, he would, but he didn’t  _ want  _ to, and it felt like volunteering to do so would guarantee that he’d never be able to rest, not really. He didn’t want to say that it was no problem, or no big deal, because it  _ was  _ a big deal. This entire thing was a really big fucking deal. And he never wanted to experience it again, or think about it again. 

So he didn’t say anything at all. He nodded at her, lips pressed into a tight line, and she accepted the acknowledgement. 

“Like I said, he’s not talking.” The woman continued. “He’s done this before. When his parents died I took him to a psychologist and they said that it’s just how he responds to trauma.”

Once again, Tony didn’t know what to say. This certainly was a trauma- and a prolonged one, at that. And the truth was that Tony wasn’t sure if Peter would be able to bounce back- hell, Tony didn’t know if he’d ever bounce back, himself. 

“I’m sorry I couldn’t protect him,” Tony whispered, and May’s head turned to look at him so abruptly that he wondered how she didn’t get whiplash. 

“Whatever they did to him isn’t your fault,” she whispered. “Whatever they did to  _ you _ isn’t your fault.”

The last part sent a spear of pain through the man’s chest. He’d been so focused on what Bykov had done to Peter that he hadn’t taken a minute to examine himself. Tony had been beaten. Battered. Tortured. He had scar tissue lacing his back from each lash of a whip. He was missing several teeth. His nose had been broken so many times that it was crooked now. He was… He felt broken. Afghanistan was one thing- Iron Man came from that, and he’d never trade that for anything. But this? No good came from it. There was no benefit to the torture they’d gone through. All he got out of it was guilt and trauma and pain. 

Tears collected on Tony’s lash line he tried to blink them away, but May noticed before he could. She wrapped an arm around his shoulders, rubbing his arms in a way that felt almost motherly. They were silent for several minutes before May stood up, reaching a hand out to help Tony to his feet. 

“Let’s get you back to bed,” she said. “I’ll bring Peter in to see you in the morning.”

Tony nodded and followed her back down the hallway until he reached his room, Pepper still laying where he left her. May plugged his IV pump back into the wall while he climbed back into bed, accidentally waking Pepper when he did so. 

“What’s going on,” she asked groggily. 

“Nothing,” he whispered. “Everything’s fine.”

That was a lie. Nothing was fine, not really. But there was a little voice in Tony’s head that told him that maybe- just maybe- everything would be okay eventually. 

  
  


* * *

The next morning, Tony awoke to the smell of coffee, the light pouring in through his window, and the sound of tiny footsteps approaching at a rapid pace. He barely had time to brace himself before his arms were full of an emotional five-year-old. She wrapped her arms around his neck, laughing and crying at the same time, and suddenly Tony was doing the same. He pressed kisses to her head and face, tears sliding down his cheeks because  _ finally _ he was really, actually home. 

“Hey, munchkin,” he said. “What, did you miss me or something?”

Morgan giggled, and Tony was eternally grateful that they were back to their normal dynamic of snarkiness and humor. She buried her face against his collarbone and he squeezed her tightly, until she started struggling in his grip. 

“I can’t breathe,” she giggled, and Tony released her, holding her so that he could get a clear look at her face. She looked  _ older.  _ It was so subtle that anyone who wasn’t her parent wouldn’t be able to notice, but Tony could, and the idea that he missed four months of growth brought more tears to his eyes. One began to slide down his cheek, but Morgan reached a tiny finger out to wipe it away. 

“Don’t cry,” she requested, even though her eyes were red as well, and Tony began to wonder how he got so lucky to have a daughter like her. 

He forced a smile onto his face. “Just happy to see you,” he said. 

There was a knock on the door, and when Tony turned to look at it he saw none other than Peter, sat in a wheelchair, being pushed into the room by his aunt. Tony’s smile grew impossibly wider as he realized that the kid’s wrists now had new, clean bandages, that didn’t look as bulky as before- meaning that the dreaded webshooters had been taken out.

“Hey, kid,” he said, and Pepper gathered Morgan from his arms so he could sit up a bit more. Peter looked… better, but still held himself timidly, back hunched as if he were trying to make himself small. May wheeled him up to Tony’s bed, and the man continued talking. “Whatever happened to seven minutes,” he asked, making sure to keep his voice light. 

Peter smiled sheepishly. “Got held up,” he said, voice barely above a whisper. May’s eyes lit up from behind the teenager, and Tony smiled back at her.

There was once a time when Tony never thought he’d feel this way again. When he’d think back on the time he spent with his family and convince himself that he’d never get it back. That he’d tucked his daughter into bed for the last time. That he’d kissed his wife for the last time. There was nothing more refreshing than this moment. The realization that he still had plenty of time left to do all the things he’d never done before. See Peter get married. Watch Morgan graduate. Grow old with Pepper. 

It would be hard, getting back to where he was before. There was a lot of healing to do. But it was possible to pick up the broken pieces. And as Tony looked at the family around him, he thought that maybe-

-maybe they weren’t so broken, after all. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i just want to say a few things now that this is done:  
> 1\. PLEASE let me know what you think: what you liked, what you think i can improve on. i want to grow as a writer and make even better stories for y’all to read  
> 2\. again, thank you SO MUCH for just reading this. my self esteem as a writer is really poor, and i’m really critical of myself so i often give up and delete my multi chapter works before finishing them, so this being finished is the result of a lot of growth on my part  
> 3\. i’m sure you’ve all heard too much about COVID-19 by now, and i’m not going to lecture you, but i want all of you to know that you’re not alone. we, the entire world, are in this together. and it’ll be okay. stay safe out there <3  
> 4\. EDIT: i AM making a sequel to this!!! it’ll be added to the series so stay tuned ;)


	8. UPDATE ON SEQUEL

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW//EATING DISORDER

first of all i’m SO SO SORRY if it feels like i’ve left you guys high and dry. i definitely have plans for a sequel and i’m actually in the middle of writing the second chapter now, but it’s becoming a huge struggle. 

long story short- my eating disorder has reared its ugly head for the first time in years. i haven’t been this bad in so long i’ve forgotten how exhausting it is. all i ever think about is food and counting calories and exercising. my every waking moment is consumed by anxiety about when i’m going to eat next, what it’s going to be, how i can get out of it. i’m really not doing well and my brain can’t seem to get out of it long enough to write. 

im so so sorry for the wait, but i’m going to need more time. much more time. because it’s hard to write and what i do write ends up being crappy. i’m going to be okay, please don’t worry about it. as soon as COVID-19 is over with i’m going to pursue therapy, but until then there’s really nothing i can do. 

please stay safe. please stay strong. and please eat. no matter if you feel like you deserve it or not. 

-m

**Author's Note:**

> please let me know what you think!!! also comment your twitter if you want so i can connect with you guys!  
> \- m


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